


Dessert Games

by Stranger



Series: Shire Reckoning 1412 [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Multiple Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stranger/pseuds/Stranger
Summary: Pippin makes dessert and Frodo eats it.





	Dessert Games

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in late September 1412 (Shire Reckoning).
> 
> Written 2002.

Frodo and Pippin took the last course of dinner in the parlor, sharing a plate of sweet shortbread triangles while they were seated cozily in a chair made for two. Frodo nibbled on a crumbly triangle, thinking of nothing in particular. He had the company of his best friends; Sam was happy; he was content. 

They were still eating when Merry came in from a day spent in Bywater. "You missed some lovely cheese-and-onion popovers," said Pippin, raising his head from Frodo's shoulder. 

"Then I'll have to make up for it," said Merry, and scooped a piece of cinnamon-sugared shortbread from the plate Pippin was holding. After he tasted it, he quickly picked up another. "Mmm. Who made this?"

"I did," said Pippin.

Frodo listened, amused, to the cousins debate what had to be self-evident, that Pippin had never baked anything before in his life. 

"I was there," said Frodo, finally. "Sam kept him from burning up the kitchen at least once, and of course Sam knows where everything is, but Pip did the best part of it." Sam should be in here by now, watching Pippin with the same pleasure in his eyes that he'd carried all this week, nights and days both.

"Hmm." Merry gave up the point and bit into another well-sugared triangle.

Pippin, all warm angles and sharp bones, nestled down against Frodo again and reached for another bit of shortbread. "You'd like this one, Frodo. Here." He bit it in half and offered the bite-sized remainder to Frodo's mouth. 

The offer was plain enough. Frodo thought about Sam, who should have come back into the parlor by now for his share of the shortbread and Pippin's smiles. And hadn't. He looked into Pippin's eyes for an instant, thinking. Sam, his servant, was in decency off-limits to Frodo's bed, no matter how willing he might be; Pippin was not, and knew it. Well enough. Frodo swallowed and said, "Delicious, Pip. Very, very good. Let me pick one out for you."

Merry, behind them, took in one sharp breath. Then he said something about the garden and the moon and took himself off. Merry was far more polite than many older hobbits gave him credit for, Frodo thought absently. It was only because Merry's notion of a good prank could be extravagant. Pippin, now... Pippin didn't always know how far he should take a thing. Or did he?

Two shared morsels of shortbread later, Pippin sat up a little in the double seat and caught Frodo's lips with his own. His mouth tasted faintly sour after the sugar, nearly the same taste as Sam's when it was sweet after ale. 

The memory was sweet, and Pippin in his arms was warm and enticing. Frodo caught one of Pippin's hands -- longer-fingered than his, now -- and curled his hand around it. "Will you stay with me tonight? I should be glad of it, but you make the choice." 

Pippin turned his hand inside Frodo's, lacing their fingers. "I want to. You were so very kind to me, before."

"You were delightful, you beautiful, curious Took. I was being being kind to myself."

Pippin hitched up against him and whispered breathily into one ear, "I didn't know what to do and you made it wonderful." Warm teeth nibbled up the edge of Frodo's ear. "Won... der... ful." Warm sucking on Frodo's ear-tip sent a quick shiver through him. Pippin had learned some tricks to this game since Frodo's summer visit to Brandy Hall. 

Frodo set aside the now-depleted plate of shortbread bits. Pippin was still playing games, nothing more serious, and for a moment Frodo felt as if he were only a Brandybuck tween, smiling into the face of a like-minded cousin. "Come to bed. We've a whole night to play in." 

Pippin raced him to the bedroom, and Frodo let him win. 

Pippin raced him undressing, too, and that had more of an even outcome, since Pippin fell over when one foot caught in his trousers, and Frodo failed to throw his shirt onto the bedpost when a loose bit of ruffle tangled in his fingers. Frodo picked off the offending loop of cloth and grinned at Pippin, now entirely naked on the bedside rug. "Well, we got here in the end. Let's have another candle or two lit." He set about putting flame from the lamp to a few of the candles on the desk.

"I like..." said Pippin at the third candle, but he wasn't looking at Frodo.

"What? More candles? Fewer?"

"I like your room, even with all the books."

"I like it too," said Frodo, picking a board-bound series of poems in Sindarin off the foot of the bed, and a much-scribbled sheet of notes off the extra pillow he didn't usually sleep on. "Come on, it's all clear now."

Pippin whooped and dived onto the pillows, turned over, and looked up at Frodo hopefully. "Are you going to stand there all night?"

"No." And Frodo dived next to Pippin, whooping and giggling like a Brandybuck tween, and proceeded to tickle Pippin as hard as he could. 

Naturally, Pippin tickled back, which led to more giggling and thrashing about and some inadvertent pleas for mercy, and handily accomplished the removal of most of the bed-coverings from the mattress. Frodo rescued the largest pillow from being flung across the room, tucked it quickly behind himself, and pulled Pippin next to him while holding both his hands to prevent a renewal of the tickle-fight. "Come kiss me instead of all that, my dear. We can do it again later, if you want."

Pippin leaned closer and kissed him very sweetly, soft lips working on his mouth, tongue-tip playing teasing games. A moment later, his arms came up around Frodo's neck, holding him closer while they suckled and tasted. 

Frodo let one hand feel its way down Pippin's back, thumb and fingers sliding around each submerged bone, while his lips and tongue played games with Pippin's mouth. When he was halfway down, Pippin wriggled and moaned and pushed encouragingly closer against Frodo. Frodo slowed the pace and spread his attentions a little wider, kneading with the flat of his hands. Pippin had a lovely, purring moan that vibrated into their kiss, soft and barely perceptible at first, rising higher and louder as Frodo's fingers slipped downward past the base of his spine. The "Mmmmms," sounded approving while Pippin was sucking on his tongue and shuddering every now and then.

"Mm-hmm," returned Frodo, exploring further carefully, enjoying the warm, wet-velvet feel on his fingertips. Pippin squirmed in his arms, breaking the kiss and letting Frodo lick down his chest while Frodo's exploring finger moved in careful circles.

"Frodo?" came Pippin's voice then, startled.

Frodo kissed a line down his belly. "It's something I like." He wriggled the finger, gently, and withdrew it. Was Merry so backward that Pippin didn't yet know what that was about? Merry wasn't a fool. "Here's another thing." He went on kissing, lingering delicately, fingertips and tongue dancing separately over flesh.

Pippin gave another happy moan and let his legs spread further apart. "That's so good. I think I like it. Frodo, do you want to..." The wriggle this time caught a caress meant to be delicate and carried it unexpectedly deeper. "Oh!"

"Too much?"

"Only a bit," said Pippin. "Not really too much. Do you want..."

"No more of it this time, my dear." Frodo let that hand trail upward, and curved the other hand around hard-roused warmth, barely touching. "I have other plans for you tonight." 

Pippin, still squirming, said, "You're going to drive me mad if you keep doing it so tip-toeing."

"Oh, like this?" Light fingertips walking up and down hardness.

"Yes! More. Don't just flirt with me!"

"Like this?" Frodo carried on with fingertips in airy caresses.

Pippin growled, writhing. "I'm going to... bite you... if you don't..."

Frodo kissed his belly again, lingering and low. "Like this?" He slipped his mouth over the flesh he'd made sure was desperately hard, taking it deep and sucking until he heard Pippin whimper. 

He pulled back a little, took a deep breath while he had the chance, and went back down on it, harder and deeper than ever. Pippin whimpered again, and again, and Frodo couldn't stop for anything until the breathy little sounds scaled up into a thin shriek, and Pippin's struggles pulled his body into a single knot of tension for long, pure seconds of infinite need.

Pippin whimpered once more, soft and satisfied at the end of his release, and the clenched limbs around Frodo relaxed. Frodo relaxed as well and eased his mouth free, pushing up far enough to lay his head on Pippin's quivering belly. "Like that?" he asked.

Pippin sputtered, "Ye-- n-- yes but--" He set both hands on Frodo's head and tried to shake it, not hard enough to hurt. "Are you laughing at me for finishing so fast!?" 

"Not at you. And not laughing, but... enjoying you. Did you like it?" 

"I'll tell you when I've decided," said Pippin.

"We needn't do it again if you don't--" 

Pippin pushed sideways and rolled onto Frodo, sprawled heavily over his body, as if to stop him escaping. "Oh, no, Frodo, we _must_ do it again. To you. Then you can tell me if _you_ like it."

Frodo caught his breath under Pippin's weight, desire burning through him at the words. "Oh, yes. Please." He worked an arm free and rubbed a palm-wide path up Pippin's body atop his. "I like it very much."

"You do?" 

"You don't think I'd play games with you that I don't enjoy, do you?"

Pippin's eyes shone with discovery in the candlelight. "Ohhh. You did it because you like it for yourself." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "I wonder if you like..." He slithered backward, down to Frodo's lap, and licked rather suddenly just at the base of Frodo's erection.

"Uhh--"

... And slipped upward to lick over the head of it, tongue-tip circling with a maddening precision which made it quite impossible for Frodo to ignore the ache there any longer.

"Ahh... slower!"

Pippin pulled up and gazed up at him, eyes twinkling at Frodo. "Don't you like it?"

"I've... you've learned a lot, haven't you?" And from whom? Frodo tried not to think about it, but he couldn't help wondering just where Pippin had learned it. From Pippin's fascinated air of experiment, it could be recent knowledge. 

He shouldn't care. His lower regions wanted more of it in any case and didn't care why. "That's good," he said. "Very."

"Oh, yes." Pippin's brows went up and down. "Shall I show you?"

It didn't matter how he knew it. It _didn't_. "Pippin, dearest Pippin, if you don't show me more of that I'll have to tickle you again." 

"Later," promised Pippin, and put his mouth back where it sent fire leaping through Frodo from one end to the other. The better and very much larger part of his mind was right there in Pippin's mouth, wallowing in the moving heat, hearing himself gasp and groan.

One tiny bit was taking it in to remember, in case... in case he ever had a chance to use it on someone else who might appreciate it. 

On someone... but he was going to practice it... The wallowing pleasure held his thoughts captive for a moment while all his concentration went into holding tightly to the bed. 

He was going to repeat this... He forced his eyes open to see the wispy brown curls and sharp-boned face that was dear to him in pleasure and friendship. He was going to do this same thing to Pippin until... 

Until...

He arched into the mattress with a groan, arms spread and fingers clutching into it, aware of nothing but the unbearable waiting for a climax that could not be forced, but only courted until it grew too strong for his flesh to contain. It crested and burst with slow finality, and he remembered again how to breathe.

He sighed and felt his body relax, exhausted for the moment. "Pip..."

"Did you like it?"

"I don't know," sighed Frodo. "I never know, afterward."

"Don't you remember it?"

"Oh, somewhat." He opened his eyes with an effort. "I always want to do it again, at any rate, and that's encouraging. Come up here and let me hold you for a bit."

Pippin came into his arms, smelling of sweat and seed and, faintly, of cinnamon. "What did you really want to do?"

"Pippin, that's a very impolite question." He was too tired to mind, but he didn't want to answer, either.

"If it's the way you were touching me before, I think I'd want to."

Frodo held him and was too tired to laugh, instead resting his face on the soft curls. "That's a different game. It takes a little more care."

"You care for me."

"Of course I do." Frodo stroked down sweaty skin, fingertips skipping and sliding over thin-fleshed shoulderblades. "But tonight it's the dessert course that is Peregrin Took. Second helpings whenever you want them." 

Pippin rolled his eyes, but when he looked back at Frodo, he was smiling. "Are you always silly like this?"

"Always," said Frodo solemnly. "Nothing is ever worth being serious. Bilbo said so, and he was right." 

"Nothing, ever?"

Frodo relented. "Maybe something, some time, when it's important to you for all your life. Not just games." 

"I like the games."

"Of course you do. Games are wonderful and silly. And Tooks are wonderful and silly. And cousins are a very good thing." He drew a finger in sliding lines up and down Pippin's back, soon curling into Tengwar characters.

"That's good," said Pippin, and then started up. "Are you writing on me?"

"It's an invisible poem," said Frodo, turning him over and working on his front side. "It's about where Peregrine is ticklish." He added a note that said "here" two ribs below Pippin's heart and dotted it with three fingers.

Pippin seized his hand, but instead of tickling back, he kissed it, licking between the fingers and exploring. Frodo hadn't known that he was very sensitive at the join of the wrist, but Pippin's sucking mouth made it abundantly clear. Frodo held up both wrists to him and lay back, whispering, "Oh, Pippin, that's... wonderful," and didn't struggle while Pippin held him down and licked a number of other places, one by one. 

Presently it was Pippin's turn, and presently they slept.

Two mornings later Frodo kissed both of his cousins good-bye on their way to Tookland with a little regret, but a light heart. 

He only hoped Sam felt the same.

# # # 


End file.
